Memoirs Of Dr Jackal
by Sasukeluva 4eva
Summary: /Rating may change/: A peek into the mysterious enigma Dr. Jackal's mind, recounting his not-too-discreet obsession with the kill. How else but through a journal? R&R. Content may contain graphic descriptors of death, slaughter, and other censored pieces.
1. Journal One: Dull

**a/n: Sasuke-sama officially loves **_**GetBackers**_** (although I have for a long time now, I have only recently gotten into the fandom of writing it), and Kuroudo Akabane is my favouritefavouriteFAVOURITE character of said fandom. Ahhhhhh, so sexy. x3 Soooooo without further ado, I present to you a multichapter fanfic written in the form of Akabane's personal memoirs. Please enjoy. :3**

**Disclaimer: I will never own _GetBackers_, but the only exceptions include the following list of characters; Kuroudo Akabane, Ban Midou, Kazuki Fuuchouin, Juubei Kakei, MakubeX, Ginji Amano… waiiiit. It looks like I really DO own _GetBackers_ after all. :3**

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_My Dearest Diary,_

_Lately I find myself drowning in a stupor of boredom, one that seldom offers any means of escape; I yearn for the day that an opponent of worthy stature may present themselves to me, an adversary worthy to sink my scalpels into and brand as dead._

_Unfortunately, I am convinced that such a person does not exist, thus I must conform to the mediocrities that have been presented to me of late, within the ranges of my newest "occupation"._

_Although I must admit that having the opportunity to slay mortal beings to my heart's content does have its perks._

_At least I have a means of gaining some degree of enjoyment from their bloodstained, mangled corpses, even if deriving such gratification must come at the cost of further loss of life; not that such incidents have ever truly affected me with such an adverse impact beforehand._

_I thrive off of death in all of its forms, but again, on my earlier point, I find things becoming bland and repetitive these past years; may there be a time where this dull incident of existence will be killed along with my boredom with the appearance of one with the strength and ability to measure my own capabilities._

_Until that day, all I can do is bide my time and wait._

_Until that day, I shall have to quell in this dull excuse of living for a time longer._

_..._

_Yours always,_

_Kuroudo Akabane, _赤羽蔵人

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'_Such existences are fleeting when there is nothing but mere boredom to entertain you.'_

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**a/n: Please review! (:**


	2. Journal Two: Morbidity

_My Dearest Diary,_

_What to ponder upon, I wonder... Ah, yes, the sheer morbidity that is my mind; an interesting topic to further study indeed, wouldn't you agree? I find myself direly absorbed with the concept of nursery rhymes, but one in particular really... __**jumps**__ at me. It goes, I believe, somewhere along these lines;_

'Roses are Red

Violets are Blue

Honey is Sweet

But not as sweet as YOU.'

_I find this statement insufferably __**amusing**__ in all of its utter folly; there is not a fool in this world that could ever plausibly live by such disgustingly "sweet" sentiment—there is just no way. If I were to recreate such a sickeningly __**doting**__ poem, it would sound a little more like __**this**__;_

**Rose is smeared Red **

**Suffocating till Blue**

**My scalpels still Bleed**

**Whilst I'm slicing into YOU.**

_Hmm, much more to my liking, if I do say so myself. They should have it published somewhere so that other likeminded folk may stumble upon it and make use of its contents; musing over murder, after all, is the one pastime that I truly do enjoy with my entire being. _

_And on the note of butchering another and branding them as dead; honestly! I am drowning in this ephemeral state of transience, and pristine tranquillity is hardly a necessity nor a desired outcome at this present time of peace._

_Perhaps I should take it upon myself to rid society of this false-acclaimed testament of peace, and bring havoc and chaos unimaginable back into the modern day world? Sounds like a plan. I shall have to consider this on a more dire note at a later date. _

_But for now, I must leave you, my dearest diary, for I have a job that is in need of completion—I sincerely hope that perhaps this time I shall gather an adversary worthy enough to gauge the limitations of my abilities, but I have my reservations that they will all prove worthless in the long run… Until that fateful day comes where I finally meet my match, I shall have to persevere._

_Ahhhhh, what beautiful screams my newest victims will inevitably make—__**I personally guarantee it**__._

_..._

_Y__ours always,_

_Kuroudo Akabane, _赤羽蔵人

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_'Nothing in this world will ever be more beautiful than the everlasting screams of the dead crying out for retribution to be handed out to the damned.'_

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	3. Omake: 1

**Extra Note From **_The Author_**: Play **_**'Head Wind (Gyakufu)/**_**逆風**_**'**_**, Naruto Shippuden OST; it really sets the angsty mood. ;)**

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***.*.*(N**O_T_**E **T_**O **_S_E_**L**F)**:**

Sharpen blades in preparation for—-—-—_A BLOODY KILL-FEST __**in which**__—-—-—\_**WILL DIE TONIGHT/**

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***.*.*R**EMINDERS_!_

1) Become commissioned as a first-class—d-oc—or [**\**] **/*\N**e_v_**e**r _t_**o** b_e_ _**again**_**/*\**

2) Test my abilities on someone of worthy stature [.]

3) Bring upon a bloody rain whilst on the job [x]

4) Making progression with gaining new strength and abilities [x]

5) Create a new technique to use against a powerful foe [.]

6) Commence another 'hunt' [x]

7) Safe transportation of priceless Egyptian artefact to foreign museum [x]

8) Carve my name into interference's back [.]

9) Gain further development on the interior levels of the Limitless Fortress [x]

10) Gut someone like a fish [.]—CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

11) Gain further Intel of fellow Transporters [.]—_Information is scarce as of now._

12) Death of—-—-[**X**] IT IS **DONE**_. And can _never_ be __**repaired**__…_

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The dim glow of the iridescent moonlight illuminated the pristine pages of the diary that had been left as it had been hours earlier, whilst a harsh breeze blew into the open room through the window, the slips of paper flapping frantically with the wind's merciless current; the calligraphy pen fell broken to the floor with a quiet _'thwack!'_, ink spilling onto it like a small pool of blood.

Outlining the lone shadow of a misplaced scalpel—which gave off an eerie blue hue in the afterglow.

Howling were the winds as the pages flickered, smacking together violently before opening to a single marked page; this one, however, was not clean white—it had descriptive depictions of a single man being gutted, beheaded, tortured, emasculated; the list of drawings went on to the point of fanaticism as they traced the border around the sheet.

And in the very centre were the bone-chilling words of a man obsessed, to the point where his once elegant script was now jagged and nearly illegible in its messy scrawl.

_**HE IS THE ONE.**_

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	4. Journal Three: Entranced

_My Dearest Diary,_

_What a pleasure and utter privilege it has been to write within your stainless sheets of ivory white paper; so much I have to say needn't be simply conveyed through words anymore—your ability to keep-safe my most intimate thoughts and inner-monologues is truly appreciated, and such gratitude will never be given to any other, of inanimate or breathing stature alike._

_Of late I find myself entranced by the sheer, true value of the sight of blood; such crimson delights cannot be found anywhere else; no colour of paint could ever rival its distinct pigment; no culinary delicacy could ever quell my ever-accumulating lust for bloodshed. _

_Warfare is ultimately what I need in order to satisfy this longing, this unattainable desire; it is as if a disease has infected my entire being, and now my vessel no longer listens to my command—all I yearn for, will ever yearn for, is the scent of blood flooding my senses, washing through me until I am paralysed with pleasure—the pleasure that can only be gained through the endless cycle of death._

_I am entranced by the liquid, the essence of one's very life, as it trickles warmly, wetly, over my splayed fingertips—even through gloves can I feel it; it is the ultimate sensual experience, I believe. To have another spill their very life into the palms of your hands, to have that privilege of safeguarding another's life, even after they have passed on… it truly is a wonderful experience._

_Because even though they are no longer with us in this dimension of futile existence, their legacy lives on, through the blood that stains one's hands—the white gloves I choose to attire myself with only stand in testament to that; no matter if one dies, as long as the pure of heart meld as one with the purest of shades (white like the snow in which surrounds me now, in this bitter chill of winter, where I am most at peace), there will always be a part of them left in the midst of this world we call 'living'._

_Be it as it may, I wish to see more; more blood, more violence, more death, all of it._

_And perhaps I might have just found my means to an end._

_An end to this dull instance of existence._

_An end to everything._

_Once more I must leave you now for important business, a job that can only be carried out by myself; one can only hope that they will never have the distinct pleasure of running into my blades of bloodshed, but I honestly pray otherwise—all life must eventually come to an abrupt end, after all._

_Why else would we be put on this earth for such a short amount of time only to die feebly years later?_

_Honour before disgrace and vilification—that is what I firmly believe._

_Death shall and will come to all—I shall see to it __**personally**__._

…

_Yours always, _

_Kuroudo Akabane, _赤羽蔵人

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'_With these Scalpels of Death, I shall end this corrupt state of existence with the slash of my wrath. That is God's Will to me. So be prepared to forfeit your life, as it will be taken from you on this momentous day.'_

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	5. Journal Four: Hollow

_My Dearest Diary,_

_Yesterday I killed another man, and yet I am left feeling __**hollow**__ inside, something that I have never undergone in any of my days of living; it is no longer enough._

_No matter how many people, innocent or otherwise, fall victim, prey, to my wrath, I cannot seem to find anymore enjoyment whatsoever from it._

_**It is no longer enough.**_

_I can only bide my time listlessly until someone with the guts, will, and power to oppose me finally shows themselves to me._

_But as of now…?_

_I see no future plans of meaningless slaughter any longer; killing within the job is one thing, but involving myself in otherwise illicit matters of government interest? Not the brightest of ideas. I am too involved with the current regime for overall supremacy in politics and even in everyday occupations that have strong ties to the Yakuza and Black Market, and the competition is in all honesty a bore._

_With no more Transporter duties to carry out, I cannot curb this profound __**ache**__ I seem to have procured with the transition to tranquillity; it is something I can no longer handle._

_I must kill to survive; I must strive to perfect my abilities; so when will this mysterious person make their grand appearance?_

_Who's to say?_

_..._

_Yours always,_

_Kuroudo Akabane, _赤羽蔵人

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'_Emptiness is the state in which one occupies when nothing satisfies their expectations anymore.'_

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End file.
